“Guess what I found at Publix?”
My mom called me in the middle of a work day, with genuine thrill in her voice. There was no need for me to panic. I knew right away what was going on.
“Hebrew National Salami?” I squealed. We had been searching for it what felt like months.
“Yes! I bought almost all that they had.”
This is a conversation my mom and I have exchanged routinely ever since I moved out of my parents’ house. You see, my mom grew up in a Jewish community in West Hollywood, and coming to the Appalachian South, she lost a lot of access to foods that she grew up around.
This reminds me so much of our ancestors. Immigrating from Eastern Europe (Russia, in my family’s case) to the United States meant adapting. They went from fresh whitefish to canned tuna (I’ll do a whole piece on this later), they no longer could buy groceries on Sundays, I could go on and on. This lack of accessibility to homeland ingredients is not uncommon for any immigrant story, and Ashkenazi Jews found themselves taking recipes from their countries and morphing them into something they could enjoy with what was available to them here in the US.
The salami I remember from my childhood is the kosher kind and a flavorful delight—cooked, infused with garlic, and wonderfully tender. It isn’t quite your traditional salami, I think it would remind more folks more of kielbasa. This salami and the way we cook with it holds nostalgia for many Jewish people. This lovely article romanticizes the nostalgia behind one of my mom’s favorite dishes—salami and eggs. Legendary food writer Mimi Sheraton even included the dish in 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, saying “The key here is the salami itself, which, whether kosher or kosher-style, should be gently firm beef sausage with heady bursts of garlic, pepper, and enough dots of white fat to render it lusciously chewable.” She goes on to write that if you’re looking for the best kind to include, that “Hebrew National’s version, virtually ubiquitous, is it.”
Now, here is where I become controversial: I am not an egg girl. I know, it is a truth that plagues me and my family. My favorite way of eating this salami is to cut it into hearty, thick slices and place it on white bread with copious amounts of mayonnaise. I was teased for a few of the more Ashkenazi-forward foods I brought to school, but when kids made fun of this sandwich, I couldn’t be bothered. I knew they were missing out on one of the most delicious ingredients of my young life.
So, I decided to do my own twist on salami and eggs. I am going to introduce you to a beef salami carbonara, where I sub the pancetta/bacon with salami and use the egg as my cream sauce for the pasta. I add some field peas, lots of cheese, and a nostalgic tenderness to this dish.
Beef Salami Carbonara
Serves 2
Ingredients:
1 ½ cups dry shell pasta (could sub for another pasta of choice)
6 oz beef salami, diced small (Hebrew National brand preferred)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 egg
⅛ cup grated Parmesan
⅛ cup shaved Parmesan
¼ cup half and half
¼ cup peas, frozen or fresh
½ cup reserved pasta water
2 Tbsp fresh parsley
2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
Let’s go!
In a medium sized pot, bring generously salted water to a boil.
Add pasta and cook according to directions, being sure to reserve at least ¼ cup water.
When al dente, drain well.
In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, both parmesan cheeses, and half & half. Set aside for now.
Heat a medium-sized skillet with 1 Tbsp olive oil over medium-high heat.
Add salami and cook until crispy, about 6-8 minutes.
Add garlic to hot pan, cook for an additional minute.
Remove pan from heat.
Add cooked pasta and peas to pan. Working swiftly, stir in parmesan mixtures, and gently toss to combine. Be gentle! Be quick! You don’t want to accidentally scramble the egg.
Add reserved pasta water, one tablespoon at a time. I typically end up using about 2-3 tablespoons to get my desired creaminess, but I like a saucier carbonara.
Season with salt and pepper, stay gentle!
Add lemon juice.
Garnish with fresh parsley once plated.
Cook notes:
I love the texture of beef salami, so I fried for about 5 minutes. Craig was expecting more of a pancetta texture, so we also have fried it longer (the 6-8 minutes noted above) to get it a bit crispier. It’s truly a choose your bliss situation.
I added a little extra crushed red pepper, because I love a kick.